


[Untitled Comment Fic]

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fertility charm goes wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Untitled Comment Fic]

**Author's Note:**

> Written after a silly conversation with [ihlanya](ihlanya.livejournal.com) about Nanny Ogg's sexual object, which resulted in the idea of Nanny being called to a fertility-charm-gone-wrong villager to rid him of his priapism.

"But Esme!”

“I don’t hold with such things, Gytha! And neither should you.”

The two witches hurried along the village high* street. The third and fourth witch trotted in their wake, clutching her tall pointy hat convulsively against the gusts of wind and skipping every other step. Agnes had found out that, as long as she focused very, very hard on simple physical tasks, Perdita found it much harder to surface. That didn’t stop Perdita from giggling gleefully, however. One giggle escaped from what was currently Agnes’ throat.

Granny Weatherwax whirled around.

“You see what you did, Gytha?” her voice was steely. “Corrupting the young, that’s what you did.”

Nanny had stopped, too, panting. Agnes didn’t want to think about the reason for Nanny’s laboured breathing. But Perdita did.

“Whee!” she said in Agnes’ head, and, before Agnes could press down on her, she burst out through Agnes’ mouth.

“Did you see the size of it!” She pulled the hat off her head and fanned herself with the brim. “I never saw one that size-“

“You never seen one.” Granny’s voice was very pointed. “Don’t forget your role in our little coven, young lady.”

“Patati, patata!” said Perdita. “You’re thinking of the fat girl. I’m the thin girl inside. I’m the fourth one: the witch temptress!” She threw her arms in the air and twirled around on the spot. Her momentum carried her face right into Nanny’s fist, which came at it with some serious impetus of its own.

“Ow!” said Agnes, rubbing her jaw. She blinked the tears from her eyes and saw the two witches watching her like hawks.**

“Works every time!” said Nanny proudly.

“Well?” prompted Granny. Agnes sighed. She started to skip on one foot, focusing her mind hard on the physical effort. It wasn’t difficult. She felt Perdita curl up and sulk.

“Well?” prompted Granny, this time directing her sapphire gaze at Nanny, who grinned, unashamedly. “And you let the girl see it! Don’t you know anything about decency?”

“It would be indecent not to prepare her for what lurks in the pants of men! She won’t stay the maiden forever.”

“Gytha!”

“Nanny!”

Agnes had stopped skipping. Perdita exploded: “Stuck in this body? I’m doomed to maidenhood, forever and ever and ever!”

Nanny gave a dismissive hand wave. “Don’t you worry. Men like something to hold on to, my dear.” She grinned. “Just like they’ll give you something to hold on in turn.”

A grey furry shape slinked past their feet, purring and preening. Three pairs of eyes followed him.

“That cat,” said Granny, “is a bad influence, Gytha. It makes your mind go funny.”

Deep down inside Agnes, Perdita thought Granny looked rather flustered. 

Granny’s fingers drummed against her black-clad thigh. Some serious reconsideration was happening. “This ain’t right. No man oughtn’t walk around with a predic’ment like that. Not in Lancre.” The tone of her voice indicated clearly that the city was a different matter altogether. 

“Walking ain’t what Weaver the thatcher’s got on his mind,” said Nanny cheerfully.

Granny pretended she hadn’t heard. “Gytha! Agnes! We’re going to the castle.”

“To the castle?” three voices said in unison.

“We tell the Queen to handle this,” said Granny. “Agnes is too young, you, Gytha, are too-“ she shot her a icy-blue look, “s’sseptible. The Queen can handle this. She wanted to do some part-time witching, now that the Princess is old enough to take solid food.”

“You can’t send Magrat in there!” Nanny jabbed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Weaver the thatcher’s cottage. “You seen what happened to Mrs Weaver. And she’s been sleeping in a marriage bed for most of her life.”

“Not in King Verence’s bed, she hasn’t,” said Granny, turning round and stomping down the road to Lancre Castle.

 

*This being Lancre, “high” referred to altitude rather than shopping opportunities.

**In Granny’s case. In Nanny’s case it was a very plump, very twinkly, very breathless bullfinch.


End file.
